


bite

by SpicyReyes



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, alternate scene from widespread delusions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 00:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14344050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyReyes/pseuds/SpicyReyes
Summary: Alternate ending to the kitchen confrontation from my Hannibal fic, The Widespread Delusion of Love.





	bite

**Author's Note:**

> my friend: i had a bad day  
> me, rubbing my gay hands together: i've got just the thing for that
> 
>  
> 
> also if you want context for your porn, here's the fic: [The Widespread Delusion of Love.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11960307)

Will looked up, meeting Hannibal’s eyes, and became hyperaware of the lack of space between them.

The hand under his felt suddenly warmer, and he could feel every line in Hannibal’s skin, every knife callous and a tiny scar along the inside of his thumb and-…

And his lips, soft but not quite gentle, pressing against his with a barely restrained urgency. 

_He is holding back,_ Will realized quickly. _He’s waiting for…_

For what?

For _Will._

Will surged forward, dragging his upper body across the counter enough to gain leverage to respond to Hannibal’s advance, hand that wasn’t holding the other man’s still moving up to curl around the back of his neck, dragging him in.

Hannibal took the response and ran with it, all hesitation vanishing. His hand turned over, catching Will’s, and he held it as he sidestepped to clear the edge of the counter, rounding it to stand in front of Will instead. 

With the two now next to each other, Will pulled back for only a second, trying to get his bearings.

Hannibal, apparently, had no time for that. 

His hand moved from Will’s to trail up his arm, and braced under his shoulder, the other hand sweeping around to land at his waist. Without any further warning, Hannibal _lifted,_ scooping Will up into the air and settling him against the counter. 

Will opened his mouth - perhaps to protest, perhaps to plead - but all complaints were swallowed by Hannibal slotting in between his legs and kissing him again. 

Having a man’s arms around him, strong and large hands resting against his hip and between his shoulder blades respectively, was a strange sensation, but Will was beyond the point where he could wonder at it. He instead focused on instinct, and shifted to a more comfortable position on the counter - one from which he could hook a leg around Hannibal, heel nudging the back of the man’s thigh to bring him one step closer. His hands, in the meantime, took their freedom from Hannibal’s own to find positions at Hannibal’s head - one in his hair, one resting against the back of his neck. His thumb lifted away from his hand, brushing along the side of Hannibal’s throat, coming to rest under his chin.

Hannibal broke their kiss to look at him, and the two watched each other for a second that seemed to last a lifetime. 

“Hannibal,” Will breathed.

The mutter broke the spell, and Hannibal’s hand left Will’s hip to bury in _his_ hair, fingers threading through black curls. A gentle but insistent pull had Will tipping his head back, exposing his throat, to feel Hannibal’s lips rest against his pulse point: the very point on which Will’s thumb rested, on Hannibal’s skin. 

Will had only the faintest moment to marvel at how a distant dream that had shaken him so greatly had lead to this point, to acting out his subconscious desires in the waking world. 

He must have slackened his hands or somehow otherwise given away his distraction, because Hannibal’s mouth shifted upward again, abandoning his neck to kiss his mouth instead - just soft enough for Will to relax into it before the doctor was dragging his lower lip into his mouth in a gentle bite.

_A warning,_ Will thought. A promise of worse to come if he did not pay attention.

A part of him was tempted to ignore him, for the sake of it.

A bigger part was desperate to continue. 

He surged up against Hannibal, bringing their bodies more fully flushed together, chasing Hannibal’s mouth to return his nip and then escalate, until their kiss turned almost violent with its intensity. 

Hannibal was animalistic, free of his gentlemanly pretenses, but Will still found it in him to be surprised when fingers tucked into the front of his waistband.

They simply rested there, for a moment, just another tether point for holding Will against Hannibal’s body. Will didn’t leave them that way, though, dropping his hand from Hannibal’s hair - too short to offer much leverage, anyway - to Hannibal’s fingers, unhooking them from his belt loops and guiding his hand inward instead. 

Feeling Hannibal’s hand, that large warmth he’d marveled at when it was only on his hip, pressing against the front of his jeans was something Will would probably be remembering in intimate moments from that point until his death. He had the split second to wonder at how far he’d shifted along the Kinsey scale before Hannibal’s palm shifted, grinding against him just enough to feel _heavenly._

He’d have thrown his head back if it weren’t already arching to follow Hannibal’s still-grasping fingers. Hannibal was apparently using his leverage to overwhelm him from all angles: the hand in his hair kept his neck exposed for Hannibal’s ‘lovebites,’ while the hand on his front shifted to pop the button of his fly. Rather than using the zipper properly, like a normal person, the man dipped his middle finger through the slight _v_ of the parted fabric, and _pulled,_ forcing the zipper to undo itself in one fast motion to avoid tearing. 

Something told Will that if they _had_ ripped, it wouldn’t have stopped them for even a second. 

What Will was expecting to happen, when Hannibal’s hands and mouth both abandoned him in favor of letting the man focus fully on undoing his jeans, was for Hannibal to pull Will free and then set about sorting himself out similarly. 

What he _got_ was Hannibal smoothly dropping down, dragging Will forward on the counter to keep him positioned just right as the man knelt between his legs. 

“Oh, _fuck,”_ Will breathed, as Hannibal moved without hesitation, dragging jeans and boxers both down just enough to free his cock and taking it into his mouth in a fluid motion.

Will had watched Hannibal cook enough to know his hands were _incredibly_ dextrous, but this was apparently a feat that extended to other muscle control as well, because as tongue and cheeks worked him he was fairly certain he suffered a mild heart attack from the pleasure running through him. 

He had a moment to consider how long he needed to hold on, depending on where Hannibal wanted to think things, before it became irrelevant: Hannibal’s devotion to his task left no room for resistance.

One of Will’s hands scrambled back into Hannibal’s hair, holding him, while the other grasped tight to the edge of the counter like a lifeline. “ _Fuck,”_ he swore. “Hannibal- _Hannibal,_ I-….”

Hannibal swallowed him down again, and that was it.

Will’s awareness scattered to the wind, abandoning him for an indeterminate amount of time, until he was blinking back at a self-satisfied looking Hannibal.

“You…” Will murmured, brain trying to catch back up. “You didn’t-…”

Hannibal pressed flush against him again, hand returning to his hip. “Didn’t…?”

Fuck. _Fuck._

Will had started off that day convinced he was at least relatively close to straight, but he was pretty sure he just fell in love with Hannibal Lecter.


End file.
